We ate for a while. Without talking to each other. Just listening to our cutlery banging on the plates, the jazz instruments cobbling together a piece of euphoria, and, somewhere between that, a bunch of magpies, hopping around, in their search for some breadcrumbs. They look so majestic, so free...why couldn't I be like that?
The door bell rang and broke me out of my melodrama.
"Must be your friend," he said as he stood up.
I was trying to finish the omelette when I heard chatter at the entrance. Couldn't make out what they were saying, though.
Without realizing, I cut the egg dish into such detailed pieces that it resembled her. Or maybe it was my imagination.
"Hey," she said as she came in the living room. "You surprised me when you left."
"So did I."
I think I should've added something more, but now I made the atmosphere awkward.
"Are you hungry?" Jim interjected himself in this silence.
"Yeah, a little. I can have some fruit if you have any."
"Sure. The plates over there, and I have some grapes and mangoes in the kitchen."
"I'll be fine with what you have there. I usually have bananas and apples anyway."
"You sure?" He threw in a suave grin.
"If I need anything else, I will ask you."
"Got'cha."
Why do I feel this weird? Like I can't even talk to her anymore.
While thinking that, she sits next to me with an apple in her hand. My heart rate's going faster.
I shuffle all three omelette bites in my mouth and dash.
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